


Oblivious Dorks, Tacky Horror Movies, and Too Much Popcorn

by Zephyr0



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Eventual Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, mentioned ruscan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyr0/pseuds/Zephyr0
Summary: Alfred invites Arthur over for a movie night.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Oblivious Dorks, Tacky Horror Movies, and Too Much Popcorn

Alfred F. Jones is not nervous. 

He’s sitting at the foot of his bed, his mouth dry and hands clenching his knees. On Mattie's recommendation, he’s wearing a dark blue jeans and a soft grey shirt. Plain grey shirt, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. No superhero t-shirts tonight. 

He tilts his head back, catching his reflection in that hangs from his closet. Alfred gelled his hair, so it now lays flat, apart from the one stubborn cowlick that has always refused to lay flat. He gave up trying to put in contacts, so he's still wearing his glasses. Freshly showered and is also wearing a fuckton of deodorant. He looks good. 

Alfred looks down at his hands. He’s bitten his fingernails, making them look jagged. Alfred curls his hands into fists. Not a good look. Don’t hold Arthur’s hand tonight, no matter how much he wants to. 

He rises to his feet and checks his phone, frowning when he notices only two minutes have passed since he last checked. Does time normally pass so slow? He paces up and down his room, casting glances into the mirror every so often. Alfred's got books about space on his bookshelf and a telescope in the corner. He’s got posters of Captain America and Spiderman and Superman and Iron Man on his walls. His collection of sci-fi books and DVDs sit next to his bed. Most of the DVDs are horror films, and some are sci-fi. 

He tries not thinking about _tonight_ too much _._ Tries not thinking about the images that play in his mind. Like Arthur cuddling up to Alfred on the sofa. Arthur holding his hand. Arthur kissing him and stroking his face. Doing so makes Alfred feel warm and tingly, and his mouth goes even drier and his hands shake. 

He stops pacing, not wanting to sweat, even though the house is cold and he has goosebumps on his arms. Alfred walks to his bedroom window. In front of him is the stretch of the street, with suburban houses lined up with pretty gardens and sleek cars parked in driveways and on nature strips. One woman is walking a dog, a big fluffy black dog, with a wagging tail and a tongue lolling from its mouth. Alfred presses his forehead to the glass and then jerks away, because the glass feels like ice.

Arthur should come in ten minutes. He checks his phone, and only a minute has passed since he checked before. 

Should he just go downstairs and wait by the door? No, bad idea. He can’t look desperate or anything; awesome heroes never get desperate. Even though he and Arthur are friends, Arthur is also coming over because he needs help with his math homework, and Alfred never turns down a person in need. So, they will work on the homework first and then watch some super scary movies. 

Alfred loves horror movies. The adrenaline rush, the jumpscares, how awesome horror movies made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the sense of dread in his stomach. He hopes Arthur likes horror movies, too. 

He continues waiting. And waiting. He checks his phone. Not time yet. A part of him wishes Arthur would come early, and another part of him wishes that Arthur won’t even show up. Not because Alfred is nervous, no, Alfred never gets nervous. He’s… he’s excited, because he’s friends with a cute boy and said cute boy is coming to his house for the first time.

And then, right on time, a rusted blue car pulls up in front of Alfred’s driveway.

Alfred’s heart lurches into his throat. He turns and rushes for the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Someone rings the doorbell.

He pauses when he reaches the bottom of the stairs, counting to five in his head. His hands are shaking so much he has to shove them into his pockets. He walks to the door, knees knocking together, his mouth dry as a desert. Alfred needs a coffee, or something else to drink.

He reaches for the metal flock and flicks it open, moving to reach for the doorknob. His hand curls around the knob, the metal cold and smooth against his palm and fingers, and he opens the door.

Arthur Kirkland stands on his doorstep, and Alfred’s mouth falls open.

Arthur is wearing a _suit._

“Whu… what?” Alfred doesn’t even know how he could produce _sounds_ at that moment. 

For a brief moment, a look of surprise flickers across Arthur’s face, before he frowns and his gaze flickers between his suit and Alfred. “Oh, dear. I’m not overdressed, am I?”

Alfred swallows hard, butterflies flapping around in his stomach. He licks his lips. He could do with something to drink. Arthur also gelled his hair, so that it is off his forehead for once. A different style from what he wears at school. Alfred loves it more than Arthur’s normal messy look. It makes him look a little older, and it’s easier to see Arthur’s adorably thick eyebrows and his beautiful green eyes. 

“Alfred? Are you okay?” Arthur steps towards him, his frown deepening. “You look awfully red.”

“I’m fine.” Alfred’s voice is not shaky. Not shaky at all. He takes a step back, not sure what else to say.

To his shock, Arthur follows him, reaching up to place his hand against Alfred’s forehead. Alfred’s face flushes even. _Jesus Christ, Arthur Kirkland is touching me._ Not quite what his fantasies resembled, but still. He can die a happy guy right there and then. 

“You don’t feel like you’re running a fever,” Arthur says. He looks over his shoulder. “Can’t be sunburnt, either. The weather has been dreadful for the past few days.”

“But I’m fine.” 

Arthur removes his hand from Alfred’s forehead. Arthur’s arm drops back to his side. Disappointment wells up inside Alfred’s chest. And since he’s acting not-awesome, he does his best to try save face. “And bro, what are you wearing? It’s just a movie night.”

“I realise that.” Arthur clenches his jaw, and his shoulders slump. “Look, we’ll do this a different day. I’ll dress differently. I assumed that this was meant to be a-”

“No! Don’t go!” Alfred grabs Arthur’s arm. 

Arthur freezes, his eyes wide. When Alfred says nothing else, he sighs. “Really, I should. You’re ill. I’ll come over next Saturday.” Arthur is already turning away. 

“But what about your homework?”

“It’ll be fine for another week,” Arthur says over his shoulder. He hurries over to his car, clambers inside, and pulls out of the driveway.

Alfred considers running after him, but he doesn't. So, he instead closes the door, his throat feeling knotted. The disappointment inside of him swells. He plods back to his room, his chest feeling tight as if Arthur had rejected him.

When he gets to his room, he drops onto the bed face-first.

* * *

Alfred spends the rest of the week trying to get Arthur’s attention. They share English and Algebra, but Arthur now sits on the other side of the classroom now, rather than next to Alfred like always. Alfred tries texting and calling Arthur, but Arthur doesn’t respond.

Did he do something wrong? Did Arthur somehow pick up Alfred’s huge crush on him and is now ignoring Alfred? Is Arthur homophobic? Granted, he doesn’t know what Arthur’s sexuality is… 

Is Alfred crushing on a straight guy? He hopes not. Not again. All his crushes in the past had been on straight guys.

Maybe he should just… ignore Arthur back or something. After all, the two had never been _that_ close. They became friends in sophomore year, after getting put to work on a project together for English, and the two had been friends ever since. Not close, but still friends. Alfred has plenty of friends he was closer to. 

But the thought of ignoring Arthur makes Alfred’s heart hurt. So he doesn’t. 

And then, finally, on Friday lunch, he catches Arthur in the library. 

“There you are,” he says, rushing up to where Arthur sat. Arthur is sitting at a desk, reading a book. Alfred pulls out a chair opposite to Arthur, his heart sinking at the way Arthur tenses, the way the color drains from Arthur’s face. Arthur shifts his eyes around as if he is looking for a way to bolt. 

Alfred does his best to put it out of his mind. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“Nothing,” Arthur says, closing his book. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

“Is it… something I did? Said?”

Arthur shakes his head. 

“Then what?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “I told you. I’ve been busy.”

This isn’t how Alfred wants the conversation to go. “But… you haven’t even said hi to me. You’ve been avoiding me.”

Arthur looks down at his hands. “I told you. I’ve been busy.”

“Not even enough to say hi?”

There’s an awkward silence that passes between them. Arthur continues staring at his hands. Alfred grips the edge of the table, his heart hammering. Why isn’t Arthur responding?

“Arthur?”

“I apologize,” Arthur says. “You won’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” Alfred’s chest is hurting. He wants to reach over, grab Arthur’s hand. Arthur looks upset. He’s frowning, and he’s looking down at his hands. Alfred wants to hold Arthur’s hand and… and give it a kiss or something. Whatever it takes so Arthur doesn’t look so upset.

“It’s just… it’s better for us if I keep my distance,” Arthur says. 

“Why? Did something happen?” Alfred frowns, leaning forward. “Arthur, I’m your friend. What’s going on?” When Arthur doesn’t answer, Alfred leans back with a supportive smile. His throat feels achy, and it’s hard to swallow. “Is it because we’re at school?”

“That…” 

“That’s okay. Come over to my house tomorrow evening, and we’ll have that movie night we didn’t do. You can tell me then. There's no pressure.”

“I’ve… but I’ve got a boyfriend.”

Alfred’s heart _broke_. “Whu… what?”

“Francis Bonnefoy asked me out on Wednesday, and I said yes. We’re going on a date on Saturday night.”

“Oh.” His mind is blank. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be anywhere else but here. But he forces himself to stay in his chair, listen to what Arthur has to say. He doesn’t want Arthur to pick up he’s got a crush on him. 

At least he doesn’t have to worry about Arthur being homophobic, or being straight. But still. 

“Francis Bonnefoy? I thought you two hated each other’s guts.” He hates the way his voice cracks. His vision is blurry. Jesus, Arthur will notice. Arthur is an observant dude. 

“Do you… have a problem with that? Me dating a guy?”

Alfred’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No, no, of course not!” Should he come out? He knows Arthur will be fine with it, but… but what if he puts two and two together if Alfred comes out? Figures out Alfred likes him?

Arthur pauses. “I’m bi,” he says. 

“Oh.”

They fall silent, and Alfred decides he _hates_ silences. He clenches his jaw, and he’s blinking quickly, hoping that he won’t start crying. Arthur looks equally miserable, tears in his own eyes, still refusing to look at Alfred.

“I’ll… I’ll come to your house tomorrow.” Alfred’s heart skips a beat at Arthur’s words. “I’ll go on my date with Francis earlier. Besides, the homework I need your help with is due on Monday.”

Alfred had forgotten about the homework. “Okay… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

Mattie pauses in Alfred’s doorway on Saturday evening, frowning at Alfred. Alfred sits at his desk, bags under his eyes, wearing an old Captain America t-shirt, and his hair is a mess.

“Did something happen?” Mattie clenches the doorframe, his jaw tightening. 

Alfred looks over. Mattie looks good for his date, wearing a black shirt and black jeans, and his hair looks fluffy. He’s not wearing his glasses. 

“It’s okay,” Alfred says. “Not his fault. He’s already got a boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Mattie enters the room and sits down on Alfred’s bed. “Sorry to hear that. You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Mattie is quiet for a moment, then he says, “Tell you what. I’ll cancel my date with Ivan tonight, and we can do something-”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m okay.”

“You’re clearly not, Al.”

“I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Like what? Moping around the house by yourself?”

 _I don’t think he would react good if I tell him the guy who broke my heart is coming over to watch movies._ “I’m hanging out with… Kiku. We’re gonna play video games at his house. Probably watch some movies, too. Seriously, dude. Just go out with your boyfriend."

Mattie sighs, rising to his feet. “Alright. Call me if you need something, okay? Hug?”

They hug, and Matt leaves the house, leaving Alfred alone. He checks the time. Arthur should be here at any moment.

* * *

Arthur arrives on time. Alfred doesn’t bother with his appearance today. After all, it isn’t a date. Arthur doesn’t like Alfred, not in the way Alfred wants him to, and Arthur has a boyfriend. 

He still feels a pang of disappointment when he opens the door. Tonight, Arthur isn’t wearing a suit, and instead, he’s wearing a green sweater vest and slacks. He didn’t gel his hair, and instead, it falls across his forehead as usual. But that sweater vest brings out his eyes.

“Come on, we’ll get you started on the homework.” Alfred turns away from Arthur. He needs a distraction. He doesn't want to act cringey or anything. 

“Are you okay?” Arthur follows. “I noticed your eyes were all red and puffy.”

“It’s hay fever.”

“It’s winter.”

“You can get hay fever in winter.” Alfred doesn’t know if it’s true, but he says it anyway. 

Arthur’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing. 

Alfred leads the way to his room, his mouth dry, and his hands shaking. He grits his teeth, telling himself he’s being stupid. It can’t _mean anything._ Arthur’s in a relationship. They’re just going there as friends. Nothing else can happen. They walk in silence, the floor creaking under their weight as they cross the landing and towards Alfred’s room. 

He opens his bedroom door and enters, Arthur following behind. His heart skips a beat, realizing this is the first time Arthur has seen his room. Arthur’s looking around, eyes narrowing at the books and DVDs on the floor.

“You need to clean your room,” Arthur says.

“Why? It’s not dusty or anything.” Alfred drags his finger along the surface of his nightstand. 

“You have a pile of books and DVDs on the floor.” 

“Yeah, and?” Alfred looks at his finger, cringing at the dust on his fingertip. He tries his best to clean his finger without Arthur noticing, turning around and standing in front of the nightstand, hoping he looks more cool than awkward.

Arthur sighs, shaking his head. “Is there anywhere else we can do the homework?”

"Why? What's wrong with this place?"

"It's too messy. I can't work in here."

"Ok boomer." Alfred shakes his head, chuckling as Arthur squawks and flushes. "I'll take you to my bro's room, then. He's gone out for the night."

Once again, Alfred leads the way to Matt’s room, which is right next to Alfred’s. Plastered all over Mattie’s walls are posters of ice hockey players. There’s a hockey stick leaning in a corner, next to Mattie’s neatly-made bed. The stuffed white bear Matt’s had since he was six sits on his bookshelf. 

“Much better,” Arthur says.

Alfred rolls his eyes, walking to Matt’s desk, which stands underneath his window. “Here, you can have this chair.” He wheels the chair to Arthur.

Arthur frowns. “You _sure_ you’re not ill? It’s not like you to be considerate.”

“I’m fine…” Alfred looks away and instead crouches on the floor.

They take an hour to go through the homework. There is so _much_ of it. Even Alfred, who gets good grades in math, feels mentally exhausted by the time they work through all the questions. 

“You know, you should really get a tutor," Alfred says. "You know what? _I'll_ tutor you."

Arthur blinks, his cheeks going red. He looks away and coughs. "You don't have to do that."

Alfred frowns. "Course I do. I help people in need."

"Let me guess." Arthur smirks at him. Alfred's mouth goes dry at the sight, and he licks his lips. "It's because you're the hero, right?"

"Of course. An awesome hero."

Arthur shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but he's still smirking. Alfred's heart is racing, and he wishes he could just lean in and kiss Arthur, but he knows he can't do that. So instead, he balls his fists and looks away. 

There's an awkward silence between them, until Alfred sighs and breaks the silence. “Come on.” He rises to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, his shirt riding up as he did. Arthur’s looking away from him, his cheeks red. “Let’s go watch a movie already.”

* * *

When Alfred walks into the living room carrying three massive bowls full of popcorn, Arthur’s face pales. 

“What… what _is_ that?”

Alfred smirks, placing all three bowls down on the coffee table that stands a couple feet away from the leather sofa Arthur sits on. “Popcorn, duh.”

“I know that,” Arthur says. “But, why did you make so much?”

Alfred shrugs. “In case we’re hungry.”

“Popcorn isn’t a meal.”

“Yeah, it is.” Alfred pouts at him, leaving the living room to collect the other two bowls of popcorn. When he returns, Arthur is shaking his head in disapproval.

“Come on, dude, live a little.” Alfred laughs, plonking himself down on the sofa next to Arthur. He keeps about a foot distance, not daring to get closer. 

“What are we watching?” Arthur asks. 

“I’ll show you.” Alfred turns on Netflix, showing the five horror movies he selected. Three are slasher films, two are found footage, and one is a psychological horror. He knows Arthur isn’t a movie buff, so he doubts Arthur would’ve seen them. 

Arthur scowls. “They all look incredibly tacky.”

“Tacky? You have no taste.” Alfred snorts.

"Excuse me? My taste is excellent, unlike yours." Despite the words, Arthur is smiling. It makes Alfred's heart race.

"Well, okay dude, whatever helps you sleep easier." Alfred makes a point of looking at Arthur's sweater vest. Arthur notices, and his eyes narrow. 

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" 

"You look like boomer who yells at random kids for accidentally stepping on your lawn."

"No, I don't!" Arthur is still smiling. _"You_ look like one of those nerds who not only showers once a month, but you also only leave your mother's basement to go to the nearest bookstore just to browse the comic book section." 

"You're British. I don't expect you to understand the awesomeness of Captain America." Alfred rolled his eyes. 

"Marvel movies are also tacky."

"You know what, Arthur? At least you remember Captain America _isn't_ a DC character. You're finally learning."

Arthur pouts. "Well, with the amount you go on about Marvel, of course I know."

"Alright then. What _do_ you think is a non-tacky movie?" When Arthur opens his mouth, Alfred, remembering Arthur was a Potterhead, then adds, _"Not_ Harry Potter."

"Fine then. Lord of the Rings." 

"You want to marathon those movies instead, then?"

"First decent idea I've ever heard from you, Alfred," Arthur says. 

"Yeah, okay." Alfred rolls his eyes. "First non-asshole comment you've given me, Artie."

"How many times have I told you my name's Arthur?"

Alfred laughs. "Yes."

"You bloody git."

They go quiet for a moment, then Arthur says, "Okay. I'll watch those tacky horror films. I will probably hate them, but I'll still watch them."

"Huh? I thought you wanted to marathon the Lord of the Rings movies?"

Arthur smiles and shakes his head. "No, it's fine. Another time. Just put one on, would you? I'm tired of hearing your voice."

“And I’m sick of your voice, too.” It’s a lame comeback, and Arthur’s eyes glint at the opportunity.

“You know, Alfred, there was a time I wasn’t particularly good at bantering or coming up with witty comebacks. But that one you just came up with? I’m now glad to know I was never as terrible as you are.”

Uh, how was he meant to respond to that? “Whatevs, dude.” Alfred rolls his eyes, and randomly chooses one of the slasher films. He grips his bowl of popcorn tight, legs propped up on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Arthur sits with his legs crossed, a scowl on his face.

“What’s with the look?” Alfred chucks a kernel at Arthur. “It’s barely started.”

“It’s tacky,” Arthur says, chucking his own kernel back at Alfred. 

Alfred hits pause. “Are you trying to tell me you want to watch the Lord of the Rings instead?”

“I told you I’ll try them.”

“Alright then. Just don’t talk. I hate when people talk when I’m trying to watch something.”

“Thank god for that,” Arthur muttered. The two continue flicking popcorn at each other. 

Alfred resumed the film. Twenty minutes in, he is gripping Arthur’s arm in a death-grip, face pressed in Arthur’s shoulder, his whole body shaking. 

“It’s not that scary.” Arthur watches with a blank stare as the serial killer slices a victim’s throat. 

Alfred only whimpers in response. He... he notices that Arthur smells nice, though. 

When the credits roll, Arthur looks at Alfred with exasperation. “The film’s finished.”

“Oh!” Alfred leaps backwards from Arthur as if stunned, a blush creeping across his cheeks. His eyes drift to the screen. “Oh.”

“You missed the entire film.”

“No, I didn’t,” Alfred says. “I looked up every now and then.”

“Not for long.”

“Because it was so scary!”

Arthur snorts. “No, it wasn't. Just your average tacky slasher film.”

Alfred pouts. “Yes, it was. Scary, I mean.”

“It was also dreadful. I should write a review for it,” Arthur says. 

“But I thought you weren’t into movies?” Alfred frowned. 

“I have some interest.” Arthur shrugs. “I’m not a fan of American films. They’re all ridiculous, with their random explosions and car chases and scantily clad actresses. So unrealistic my eyes actually _hurt_ from rolling them too much.”

Alfred snorts with laughter. "That's mostly action movies. And you _do_ realize this movie was made in Britain, right?"

"Obviously not England, then."

"Actually, you're wrong." Alfred smirks at him. 

“Shut up.” Arthur chucks him a kernel. "And just put on another one." He covers his face as Alfred launches a handful of popcorn at Arthur's face, but he's laughing. 

* * *

It’s late, and they’re watching the third movie. They only ate half of the popcorn, and all the popcorn they threw at each other is all over the sofa and floor. There are still two bowls full of popcorn, and a third bowl is half-full. Aside from burying his face into Arthur’s shoulder from fear, Alfred’s also nodding off. He’s about to fall asleep when Arthur pauses the movie, takes Alfred’s head with a sigh, and places it onto his lap. 

Alfred freezes, his eyes flying wide open. Arthur obviously doesn’t notice Alfred is awake, because he starts running his fingers through Alfred’s hair. _Jesus,_ it feels amazing. He could probably fall asleep right there and then if it weren’t for his racing heart or the butterflies fighting in his stomach or the fact his face felt on fire. 

“You’re an idiot,” Arthur murmurs, rubbing circles into Alfred's skull. He hesitates for a moment, then says, “And I’m an absolute fool.”

“Uh…” Alfred doesn’t know what else to say. He just figures he should say something. 

This time, it’s Arthur’s turn to freeze. He shoves Alfred away, and Alfred topples off the sofa and lands on his awkwardly on his side. Arthur springs away from the sofa as if he got burned, his face red and his hands are shaking. 

“Hey, what was that for?” Alfred’s face is still red. He rubs his hip with a yawn and runs his other hand through his hair, brushing it from his forehead. 

“What… I thought you were asleep!”

“I… was almost asleep?”

Arthur opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, then he clenches his fists and takes another step back. “I’m… I’m going home.”

“But it’s really late.” Alfred checks his phone; it’s five past three. Mattie must be home by now. “You can just stay the night.”

“No, it’s not!” Arthur glares at him.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Alfred shakes his head, rising to his feet. He takes a couple of steps closer to Arthur. “I don’t care.”

“Well, you should!”

There’s a brief moment of silence between them. Alfred takes another step closer so that there’s about a foot distance between him and Arthur. “Uh, why?”

“You know why!” Arthur curls his top lip, turning his body away.

“Is… is it got to do with the hair-stroking thing?” 

“Obviously.” Arthur rolls his eyes. 

Alfred flinches, realizing what had happened. His heart sinks. He should’ve said something earlier. Arthur has a boyfriend, it obviously made Arthur uncom-

 _Wait._ “But… but you’re the one who started it?”

Arthur looks away. His knees are shaking. “Yes, I was.” His voice is quiet. 

“So, uh, is this got to do with your boyfriend? Like, no homo or anything.” A blatant lie, on Alfred’s side, at least. “I mean, it’s not like we were hooking up or something.”

Arthur snorts and shakes his head, letting out a forced chuckle. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Huh? When did you two break up?” He hates that his heart skips a beat at the revelation. _Stop it,_ he thinks. Arthur doesn’t like him like that. 

“I lied. I never had a boyfriend.” He raises an eyebrow. _“That_ should be pretty obvious.”

“What?” Alfred frowns at Arthur, waiting for Arthur to explain, but he doesn’t. Instead, he hurries past Alfred. 

Alfred grabs his arm. “Where are you going?”

“I told you, home.” He yanks his arm free.

“No, wait. What’s going on?” Alfred’s frown deepens. “Seriously, just tell me, dude. I can’t read your mind,”

“Thank god for that,” Arthur mutters. 

“So, uh, _what’s_ going on?”

 _“Everything_ , you goddamn git.” Arthur takes a step back, looking as if he is ready to flee again at any moment. 

“Like… what? 

“Everything!” There are tears in Arthur's eyes. 

Alfred winces. This is getting worse and worse. “Dude, can you please just _tell me?”_

“Are you mocking me?” Arthur shoots Alfred a glare.

“No, dude! Seriously, I don’t know what’s going on!” He grabs Arthur’s arm, his fingers instinctively digging into Arthur’s skin. “Just tell me already!”

“How dense can you be?” Arthur lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. He breaks free from Alfred’s grip and takes another step back. “I fancy you, you moronic twat.”

Alfred’s brain short-circuits. 

“I thought… I thought last Saturday was supposed to be a date,” Arthur continues, oblivious to Alfred standing there, mouth slack and eyes wide and hands shaking. “That’s why I rocked up in a suit, and then. And then I saw you dressed so casually and I assumed that I assumed wrong and I got scared you figured it out because I was so obvious so I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so I made up a lie about dating Francis so you would assume I moved on.”

Alfred continues staring at him. Instinctively, he reaches for his elbow, pinching himself. The jolt of pain tells him it’s real. Not some dream he’s having while sleeping on Arthur’s shoulder on the sofa. 

“So, are you happy now?” Arthur pouts, turning away. “I’m going home. Coming here was a huge mistake.”

Alfred’s heart jolts, and he lunges after Arthur, once again grabbing his arm. Arthur freezes, turning his head. Alfred stares at him with that same stunned look. Alfred opens his mouth, but the words die on his lips. His heart is hammering so loud he wonders if Arthur can hear it. The butterflies are still thrashing around in his stomach. His mouth is really dry. Arthur has nice lips. 

“I…” That’s all Alfred can manage out. 

Arthur grits his teeth. “Just let me go home, Alfred.”

“But… I… I want to kiss you right now.”

There’s an instant silence that stretches between them. Arthur stares at him with wide eyes. Alfred stares back, hands balled into fists as they tremble by his side. They both stare at each other for a few seconds—a few _long_ seconds—then Arthur is the one to break the silence.

“You want to… _pardon?”_ Arthur continues staring.

“Kiss you,” Alfred says. 

“Is… is this a joke?” Arthur takes a step back. He’s almost standing in the hallway. 

“No, of course not!” 

“It sure sounds like it.” Arthur’s eyes narrow into a glare. His cheeks are red, just like Alfred’s. He exhales impatiently, breaking eye contact with Alfred, turning to walk away again.

“Dude, what are you do-”

Arthur whirls around and gives Alfred a shove. 

“Stop it!” He glares at Alfred, his hands shaking. Alfred staggers back a little, managing to not fall over. “Just because-”

“Dude, I like you, okay?” Alfred shouts.

 _Finally,_ Arthur pauses. Alfred is breathing fast, his chest heaving. The two stare at each other again.

Now that he’s got Arthur’s proper attention again, Alfred says, “How could _you_ not know?”

“But… how?”

Alfred lets out a shaky laugh. “You don’t remember last Saturday? I was blushing so much because you looked really hot.”

“I… I thought you were sick!”

“I wouldn’t have invited you over if I was sick,” Alfred says. “Seriously, Arthur. Have you never heard of Netflix and chill?” Okay, chilling hadn’t been Alfred’s intention, but still. Romance, yes, definitely, but no fucking. Well, not yet, anyway. "I got pretty upset when you said you were dating Francis, too."

“Oh.” 

“Really, I thought you were the observant one.” Alfred laughs. 

Arthur looks at him for a moment, then coughs and drops his gaze. “Yes… yes, I thought so, too…”

“So, uh…” Now what? Alfred’s heart is still hammering. He can’t look at Arthur, so he instead stares at Arthur’s socks. Arthur’s wearing black socks. 

“I suppose…” Arthur glances at the screen, gulping, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I suppose we could finish the movie?”

“Right… Let’s do that.”

“Did you have… anything else in mind?” Arthur looks at him.

“Maybe…”

“You… mentioned something else you wanted to do? A bit before?”

“I did? Like what?”

“Well, that.”

“Oh, yeah…”

The two stare at each other, both blushing. Alfred doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he starts twiddling his thumbs. _Twiddling his thumbs._ Jesus Christ, what is Arthur Kirkland _doing_ to him?

"So, uh, yeah…” Alfred doesn’t move.

Arthur lets out an impatient huff, his cheeks flushing even more. “Just… just come here, will you?”

Thank god. He shuffles closer to Arthur, his heart still racing. Arthur grabs the top of his shirt and yanks him in for a kiss. Alfred kisses him back, a warm tingle shooting up his spine, making him shiver. He backs Arthur towards the wall, fingers against the smooth warm skin on Arthur’s neck, Arthur’s hands in Alfred’s hair. Arthur’s breath smells of popcorn and Alfred can taste the saltiness on Arthur’s lips. Alfred’s tongue brushes against Arthur’s, and when Arthur lets out a soft moan, Alfred pushes his tongue into Arthur’s mouth. 

He’s not aware he’s pressed Arthur against the wall until Arthur tilts his head away. He’s also blushing. They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, before Arthur flips Alfred over and presses him against the wall. Alfred sucks in a raggedy breath, his heart skipping a beat. They continue kissing.

Arthur breaks the kiss again. There's saliva on Arthur's lips. They're still close enough for them to kiss. "I apologize for lying to you. About Francis."

"Nah, it's cool." Alfred runs his thumbs across Arthur's flushed cheeks. He presses his lips against Arthur's again. 

Eventually, they stumble over to the sofa, exhausted and eyelids heavy and Alfred’s lips feel a little swollen. There’s still a warm tingly feeling rushing through his body. The two collapse across the sofa, pressing against each other. It’s not comfortable, but Alfred doesn’t care because Arthur’s warm and feels a little soft and he smells nice and Alfred can’t stop grinning. They fall asleep like that, Alfred spooning Arthur.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Alfred’s mother returns from work. She works six night shifts a week in international departures in currency exchange, but she takes fewer shifts now that her husband has gone away on a business trip. And she also wants to spend more time with her two lovely boys. 

When she sees one of her sons sleeping on the sofa spooning a handsome blond boy she doesn’t recognize, she raises her eyebrows at first with surprise, but then goes upstairs and fetches them a blanket, sprawling it over the two. She takes a handful of kernels from one of the full bowls. 

She's already had _the talk_ with both her boys, but that was a few years ago. As she trudges into her bedroom, she’s grinning, munching on the popcorn. She needs to have another _talk_ with Alfred in the morning. After his date goes home, of course. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave a comment/hit the kudos button.
> 
> And stay safe, everyone.


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